


Surprise!

by BulmaseekingVegeta



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: F/M, Happy Birthday!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-25 12:40:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16197734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BulmaseekingVegeta/pseuds/BulmaseekingVegeta
Summary: This is my belated birthday gift to Scarletraven1001 !  I love you, Girl!!!!  Set in the world of her fantastic “Impasse” AU (y’all check it out!!!!), Vegeta struggles to give Bulma the perfect birthday surprise for her first birthday with him.





	Surprise!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ScarletRaven1001](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarletRaven1001/gifts).



It was his first time…  Well, not _that_ sort of first time, but it was his first time being with someone during a birthday.  _Their_ birthday.  _Her_ birthday.  As fi he wasn’t panicked already, it had only been a short time since they’d announced that they were an item.  He smirked at the memory; him sitting up in a hospital bed, his Father there, his brother.  Watching her on the television being hounded by reporters and photographers, bombarded by flash bulbs and questions before finally turning on a reporter and telling the whole world: ‘Yes, the rumors are true.  I am in a _committed relationship_ with Vegeta Ouji.’ And when she’d walked into his room… this was the first time he’d be with her for her birthday and he wanted it to be special.

So here he was, handing the reins over to Tarble for a rare, if ever, day off, to spend it learning how to make her favorite dinner and dessert.  His surprise for her, and surprise to himself too if he could pull this off considering he really didn’t know how to cook.

He had the tablet propped up with a recommended recipe or rather the site said it was highly recommended, five stars and such.  At least the photos looked right.  So that had to mean _something_ , didn’t it?...  Didn’t it?  Really.

He felt ridiculous moving around his own luxury, gourmet kitchen with shaking hands because he was scared of screwing this up.  It was more than that though.  The first egg he’d picked up shattered in his hand.  Nerves.  He’d been so terrified of dropping and getting egg everywhere that he’d held it too hard.  The second egg, too light.  It slipped out of his hand and splattered half on the counter and half on the tile floor.  He cleaned it up while gritting his teeth and ordering himself to ‘Calm the _fuck_ down!’  As a precaution though, he scooted the trash can next to him and kept the towels and sponge handy too.  He took another moment to settle his nerves again; although with every failure, his anxiety merely ratcheted up another notch.  He looked over at the opened egg carton, glossy, brown-shelled ovals residing in clear plastic niches.  Vegeta Ouji inhaled slowly… exhaled slowly… reached for a third egg…  Okay, so far, so good; it hadn’t exploded…  Yet.  He slowly brought it to the small glass bowl… so far, so good…  Okay, according to the video tutorial all he had to do was tap it on the bowl rim…

_SPLAT!_

“Shit!”

He cleaned up the mess again.  This time washing the bowl of the raw egg it caught.  Drying it.  Trying it again.  Okay, picked up the egg without crushing it again… _tap_ … not hard enough, all he did was make the bowl ding.  He tried again, _tap—_

_SPLAT!_

“Fuck!”

He slammed his fists on the countertop.  _Why was this so hard!_   Thank God, her sister had taken her out for a long lunch with some long shopping afterward because it was going to take him forever at this rate.

He cleaned up the counter and floor _again_.  Cleaned the bowl _again_.  Picked up an egg _again_.  _Tap—_

_SPLAT!_

There had to be a trick to this.  He was certain of it now.  There was no way Vegeta Ouji, Chief Executive Officer of Ouji Enterprises, one of the most powerful, brilliant, and savvy minds in real estate development couldn’t crack a _fucking egg!_   There was not way!  He cleaned again.  Washed again.  Then picked up his phone.  Opened the video site app, found the tutorial, and hit play.  He reached out… picked up another egg… brought it to the bowl rim… gently, he reminded himself and his quivering hand; _tap_ … _tap_ … _tap_ …  He breathed.

It hadn’t shattered.  It cracked, but it hadn’t shattered.

He brought his other hand up.  God if he could just _stop shaking!_   He held the egg between the fingers of both hands over the bowl… he held his breath as he slowly began prying the eggshell apart at it’s fracture point… slowly… slowly…

_Plop_.

“Oh thank God,” he breathed.

Flinging the empty shell halves in the garbage can and bracing himself on the counter edge.  Panting heavily.

He’d done it!  He’d finally done it!

Vegeta glanced up at the recipe…

“Oh Fuck.”

_Three eggs?!_   The recipe called for _three eggs?!_   Shit!  He had to do that again?!  Twice!  He read the recipe.  Oh, two eggs in another bowl, this was just to bread the pork cutlets.  God damn it!

Vegeta sighed and ran his hands over his face, rubbing his eyes with the butts of his palms.  God, did he love her.  To do this, God, did he love her.  God, he was going to marry her.  He’d already made up his mind about that when he gave her the crescent moon pendant, but now he was absolutely certain.  He was cracking eggs for her, he was going to marry her. 

“I must really, really love this woman.”  He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, rubbed, feeling none of the stress leave his shoulders or neck or any of the rest of his body, and sighed.  Okay, okay, he could do this.

He let go of the bridge of his nose and opened his eyes.  He stared down his foes sitting so innocently in their carton.  He growled at them before going over to a cabinet and grabbing another bowl.  He returned to the counter, set the other bowl aside, and gritted his teeth as he prepared to start this all.  Over.  Again.  Again.

Vegeta took another egg from the carton, silently thanking God he’d bought two cartons, and tapped it on the bowl edge… then tapped again.  It cracked, but held.  He held it over the bowl and began to pry it apart with both tremoring hands again.

_Plop._

He breathed.  Got another egg.  _Tap… tap…  Plop._

“Shit,” Vegeta hissed.  Some shell had gotten into the bowl with eggs.  He checked the tutorial…  Okay, all he had to do was just pick it out.  Fine.  Done.  He pressed a fingertip down on the little triangular shard of shell and slid it up the side of the bowl and out.  He wiped his hands.  Okay, next.

His eyes perused the tablet screen…  Scramble the eggs.  He found another tutorial.  It instructed him to pick up a fork, he got one out of the drawer, then he was supposed to press the tine tips of the fork into the yolks to burst them if they hadn’t already burst from cracking.  He did and watched the gold ooze into the viscous whites.  Next he was supposed to whip the goo until both yolk and white were blended.  He did.  He went back to the recipe—

“Oh shit.”  He froze.

It said to scramble the eggs not too much but just enough that most of it wasn’t discernibly separate.  Just a few seconds.  But—But—The fucking tutorial didn’t say ‘Just a little blended’!  He’d completely blended them.  He stared at the bowl in his hands.  It was filled with light yellow, slightly frothy, egg goo.  Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!  He’d screwed up.  It took him this long to crack eggs and he’d already screwed it all up?!  How could he…  If he over beat the eggs, it said, don’t worry.  God damn it!  He took a moment to settle down… and started thinking about why exactly he hadn’t called her favorite restaurant, ordered the meal, and simply dumped it onto some plates and pretended he’d cooked it for her…  Oh, that’s right.

“I really, _really_ love her.”

So what’s next?

Bread the pork cutlets.

He fetched the butcher paper-wrapped bundle from the fridge.  He tore the flap free from the barcoded sticker and unrolled the bagged bundle.  He opened the bag and eyed the cutlets he’d handpicked.  Then brought up a tutorial on how to bread them.

He scramble the bowl with the single egg in it.  Now for… breading _stations_?!  What the fuck are breading stations?!  These are pork cutlets.  Not busses.  Why the hell was this all so complicated?!  Next time he was ordering her favorite take-out and suffering through whatever movie she wanted to watch because that had to be less painful than this…  No.  He wouldn’t do that next time.  He’d go through anything for her even this far out of his successful comfort zone.  She’d done the same for him, hadn’t she.  Just by entering into a relationship with him in the first place.

He referred back to the tutorial.  Of course he’d make a complete ass out of himself in the privacy of his own home.  For her.  So a ‘station’, as they called it, was just a plate with some bread crumbs on it.  Really?  That was it?  Why not just say ‘plate of crumbs’?

Vegeta got out a plate then opened the box of panko and poured them on the plate till it was covered.  This time he made sure to follow the tutorial rather than just watch it once and figure it wasn’t all that hard to do.  Now he knew that eggs were a hard lesson to learn.

He dipped the meat in the crumbs, flipped them over in it, coated them again, then put them in the bowl of egg.  Swished them around then flipped then and swished again, noting that if some crumbs fell off, that was okay according to the tutorial.  Then he put the egg-covered cutlets back in the breading for another coating of crumbs.  Flip, another coating, and done.  He tried not to jinx himself by thinking how easy that was.

Now to cook them.  Vegeta got a frying pan hot on—What’s medium heat?  He looked at the knob of his stove.  There wasn’t anything that said ‘medium’!  There were numbers.  They went from 1 to 10… so 5, 5 would be medium.  He turned the knob to 5, and wondered to himself why his mind wasn’t putting this together better.  It wasn’t like it was his first time cooking, but somehow it felt like it.  And he was acting like it was.  Yes, he didn’t really cook that often for himself before he met her… and the few women he’d dated steadily before her only every wanted to go to whatever ‘it’ restaurant of the moment for any meals; showing him that they were there more for his money and status than for him, which was why they’d never made it to being together for either of their birthdays.  But… his nerves.  He knew she was important to him.  More than he’d ever could have imagined.  He’d told Radditz how he couldn’t stop thinking about her, how he was crazy about her, but their first time together… that next morning, he knew he never wanted to wake up without her beside him or in his arms ever again.  Vegeta put some olive oil in the pan then held his hand over it until he felt heat then swirled the oil to coat the pan, feeling for at least a moment in all this like someone who knew what they were doing.  Then he seasoned one side with salt… pepper… then laid those sides down in the pan to the refreshing sound of sizzling and seasoned the new top sides.  Okay, cook for four minutes.  He set the oven timer.  Finally, he could breathe… and feel some tension ease.  He’d breaded pork cutlets.  Now all he had to do was not burn them.  Thank God for built-in timers.  Next step.

Slice onion, thinly.  He brought up aother tutorial.  Still felt like a child for needing to do so.  But he really couldn’t trust himself.  His nerves had somehow rendered him stupid.  Maybe next time he’d hire a private chef to _teach_ them how to make another of her favorite meals…  No, he didn’t want anyone else there with them on her birthday.  And, come to think of it, he wasn’t sure he wanted her to see him getting so frustrated with this.  Or being this stupid.  So, he got out a knife.  He may not cook for himself very much, but at least he stocked well for the odd occurrence.  Now he sliced off one end, his mind was working better enough for him to remember _that_ at least, then sliced off the other.  Peeled it.  Then the moment of truth.  Shit, his nerves were back.  All of a sudden his hands were shaking again.  Carefully he lined his knife up as close to the first cut as he could, his hands weren’t making it easy… and began to saw the knife down through the vegetable… slowly… measuredly, which only seemed to make his shaking worse.  Like his panic seemed to spike even more with his success rather than failure…  Finally.  One slice of onion.  He lined his knife up again, had to take a moment because it kept jumping back and forth; he really needed to calm down.  He lined his knife up again, began sawing again, slip!

“Shit!”  That stung!

Vegeta grabbed his finger.  Seething.  Shit.  Shit.  _Shit._   He took a moment to walk away from the counter.  Pace the length of his open kitchen.  He didn’t have time for this.  He still had the _rest_ , yes _rest_ , of dinner to finish and plate so that it at least looked nice and that he put just as much effort into dishing it up for her as he did making it for her.  And there was still dessert!  And making that look _extra_ pretty for her!  He did not have time for making stupid mistakes because he was panicking about making everything perfect for her!!

He opened his hand.  There was a faint imprint of blood on his palm, but that was all.  The cut was as superficial as a paper cut.  Stung like hell like a paper cut always did, but the lingering sting was most likely due to the onion.  One little bandage strip would patch things up nicely.  He glanced over at the counter… and wished he hadn’t.  He sighed.  There was a big, finger-sized smear of blood on the main part of the onion.  He’d have to throw it out, clean up, and start over.  Well, at least it was just one slice of onion and not more.

The timer went off.  Damn it, he sighed.  Quickly Vegeta washed his hands in the sink and wrapped the dish cloth around his finger so he could at least hold onto the frying pan while he flipped the cutlets.  He managed with the flipper.  Barely.  He set the timer for another four minutes then rushed off for his guest bathroom, he kept a small first aid kit there.  He cleaned his hands and cut better, wrapped a bandage strip around his fingertip, and hurried back to the kitchen.  Using the dish towel, he swiped the onion into the garbage.  Cleaned up the counter.  Again.  He got the other onion he’d bought, thank God he’d planned in advance of screwing up everything at least once; he was known for his strategic planning, he just hadn’t really planned on how much time screwing up everything at least once was going to take up.

Vegeta took up his knife again and cleaned it.  Then he chopped off one end of onion, peeled it back to the other end, and lined up his knife again.  His hand was still shaking.  Both were.  He breathed.  As much as it went against his grain, he sawed into the onion even slower than before.  One slice… two slices… three and he still had all his fingers just as intact as when he’d started.  That was saying something.  Four… five…  he went on and on until he’d sliced half the onion.

Next, get—

_Beep.  Beep.  Beep._

Time to put the pork in the oven.  So far preheating the thing was the only thing he’d managed not to mess up the first time.  Vegeta grabbed the frying pan handle and put the whole thing in the preheated oven.  He reset the timer for fifteen minutes.  He grabbed a spare dish towel and wiped his forehead.  He never sweated this much even in a workout and he was known to take those to excess.

Now he needed another pan, had it ready.  Got it on the burner to start heating up with a little more olive oil.  Now add the onions, lower the temp, caramelize.  Looking for a tutorial on what exactly ‘caramelize’ was… so he was supposed to cook them till they turn brown and slimy.  Slimy?  Really, he was going to serve his girlfriend slimy onions for her birthday.  He couldn’t believe this, but it’s what the recipe said and the picture looked right so he had no choice except to follow orders and pray that this wasn’t complete lunacy.

While the onions were becoming… slimy, he moved on to, he scrolled… the sauce.  He got another bowl.  Carefully measured out the soy sauce, using the low sodium one she preferred.  Sure, now his mind knew how to use measuring spoons and his hands were as still as they were when he was doing paperwork.  Then the dashi.  Then the mirin.  And lastly, he went to his fridge and took out the special bottle of sake.  It was their favorite, the same one they had been drinking their first weekend together at his cabin… the same kind they had been drinking at the office party before their first night together.  He added it to the mix along with some sugar and stirred until the sugar dissolved.  Next he added a little corn starch and stirred till it dissolved.  He set that aside.  Ironically, he beamed at it, he was proudest of it most of all.  After all, he hadn’t injured himself measuring it out or stirring it, he hadn’t needed a tutorial of any kind, and none of the ingredients shattered in his hand.  It was a victory.  A minor victory, but still a victory.

Vegeta gave the onions a quick shifting around the pan before seeing what was next… nothing was until the onions were done.

He picked up his cellphone and moved on for the moment to dessert.  She loved strawberries.  But it was their first birthday together and he wasn’t about to slack off when it came to the ‘cake’.  He unwrapped the bar of pure, gourmet, milk chocolate.  The one that she always wanted to get but usually talked herself out of.  According to the new video tutorial, to do a proper chocolate coating he needed to start with a small pot of water.  Vegeta got that going and put it on the burner next to the onions, giving those another quick stir before—

_Beep.  Beep.  Beep._

He fetched a towel and got the frying pan of breaded pork cutlet out of the oven.  He set it on the unused burner at the back of the stove and shut off the timer.

Back to the chocolate, next he had to put an empty metal bowl over the pot, a big bowl.

He could have sworn…  Vegeta opened a cabinet, nope… then another, nope… another… and still nope… another down below.  Yes!  He set the big metal bowl on the pot and set the burner on ‘boil’.  Okay, while that was heating up and the stupid onions, he stirred them again, were taking forever, he was supposed to be chopping up the bar of chocolate.  He checked the tutorial.  Well, at least his finger weren’t supposed to be in the way.  He thoroughly cleaned the knife again, he didn’t want any onion flavor in his girlfriend’s chocolate.  Okay, he wedged the knife on an edge of the bar… levered his weight over it… and pushed lightly.  The blade slid down with some resistance, but when it was through, Vegeta had little bits of chocolate shavings.  He smirked.  Got this!  He wedged the knife on another edge of bar… levered his weight over it again… pushed down lightly… and got more shavings and tiny chocolate chunks.  Just like the video.  So why the fuck were _eggs_ so damn hard and all this so far was the easy part?  How the fuck did that happen?

He didn’t think about it too much, just a grating, gnawing feeling at the back of his mind, as he continued shaving down the chocolate bar.  By the time he was done, he could hear the pot boiling underneath the bowl.  He gently scooped the chocolate into the metal bowl, being extra careful to not miss a single, thin shard.  Then he got a whisk and the heavy cream from the fridge.  By the time he got back, the chocolate was already shiny and stating to lose it’s shape.  He measured out the cream, poured it over the chocolate, and started whisking.  Blending the two…  He sniffed and his mouth started watering.  The chocolate smelled so good and it was starting to look silky smooth.  Then he smirked, a devilish idea coming to his mind.  He didn’t _have_ to dip the strawberries in the chocolate and let them set in the fridge.  He could pour the chocolate sauce into a bowl and she could dip the strawberries at the table herself… and he could feed her the strawberry.  And if some chocolate sauce just so happened to drip, he could simply lick it off her skin.  Vegeta licked his lips.  Yes, change of plans.  According to the video, if it was sauce he wanted, he was done.  Quickly, Vegeta fetched a pink crystalline bowl from the cupboard and poured the sauce into it.  Scraping every last bit.  He walked the sauce over to the dining table and placed it before returning to the stove.

_Finally_ , the onions were done.  Jesus Christ, that took long enough.

Vegeta double-checked the recipe on his tablet, still keeping his phone handy for anymore tutorials—

“Shit!”  His eyes bugged at the time on the phone.  Fuck, she’d be back soon.  He only had ten more minutes!  “ _Damn it!_ ”

His eyes zeroed in on his tablet.  The next step said to part the onions into two equal halves in the pan, leaving a gap down the middle for the pork cutlets.  He used the flipper to part them just so.  Placed the pork cutlets in a column down the gap.

What’s next?  His eyes searched, the sake sauce.  He picked up the bowl.  God damn it, the starch had resettled at the bottom.  He stirred it up again.  This was taking up time.  This was taking up time!  There.  Remixed.  He poured it over the pork and the onions.  It sizzled and bubbled and rich smells filled his nostrils.  Holy shit!  It actually smelled right!  It actually smelled _good!_

He checked the recipe.  Now he was supposed to let that cook for three minutes.  Great!  He set the oven’s timer and rushed back to his fridge.  He pulled out the carton of microwave rice cups.  This was the one cheat he’d do for this meal.  He wasn’t about to serve her crunchy rice or burnt rice or mushy rice.  This was complicated enough as it is for him and he wasn’t going to ruin it with crappy rice.  He read the directions carefully.  One cup for each of them.  Pull the plastic wrap off.  He did.  Nuke one at a time for 1 minute.  Yes!  He put in the first cup, set the time, and hit ‘start’.  He hurried to get the plates.  Royal blue trimmed with gold bands, really the only fancy dishware he had.  Bright red, linen napkins to go with them.  He set the plates on the counter and hurried to the table with the napkins.  He folded them.  Nothing fancy, just nice neat folds.  The microwave beeped.

He rushed back.  Took out the hot, little, white cup.  Put in the other cup.  Reset the time.  Hit ‘start’.  He gingerly took out the hot cup to the counter and tipped it over on the one of the plates.  He spread it around to fill up the plate.  Yanking his fingers away every once in awhile with a hiss about how searing the steam was.  Just in time for the second cup to be ready.  He got it form the microwave and tipped it out on the other plate.  Spreading it again, hissing again.  Vegeta threw the empty cups away.  Wiped his hands on a spare dish towel.

The oven timer went off.  Okay.  Next.  Eggs!

He picked up the last bowl of ingredients and poured it over the meat and onions just like the recipe pictures showed.  Then he covered it and set the timer for 2 minutes like the recipe said.  Good, good, good.  He bolted to the fridge.  Grabbing the container of strawberries and the bag of scallions.  Then he heard to his china cabinet and got the teal-tinted crystal bowl.  He set the bowl down and began picking out pinkish-red berries.  Placing them in the bowl _just right_.  He ran the berry bowl to the table.  Set it next to the chocolate sauce.  The timer went off.  Thankfully for the last time.  He checked his phone again.  She was running a little late.  Fantastic.

Vegeta shut the timer off and took the cover off the frying pan.  A cloud of delicious aroma wafted up and broke over his face.  His stomach growled.  This smelled really _good_.  The eggs looked creamy.  Everything looked great.  Not restaurant style, but still edible.  He quickly checked the recipe.  He didn’t want to screw this up now.

Dish up the onions and eggs over the rice.  He used the flipper to scoop up one side of caramelized onions and creamy eggs over the steaming rice of one plate… then the other side of onions and eggs over the rice on the other plate.  Next the pork.  He scooped up one juicy cutlet on top of one plate then it’s twin on the top of the other plate.  Then pour remaining sauce equally over each breaded pork cutlet atop a pile of eggs, onions, and rice.  Carefully Vegeta spooned out sauce.  Taking turns between each plate till all the sauce was gone, giving her plate the last extra bit of sauce.  He smiled.  Finally, garnish with chopped scallions, green parts only.  He took up the knife one last time.  Cleaned it of all traces of chocolate.  Pulled a single scallion from the plastic produce bag.  He carefully chopped just the dark and bright green parts then sprinkled them over the two plates.

Vegeta looked down at his accomplishment.  He had cooked.  For her.  For their first birthday together.  He breathed.  One big, heavy exhale of relief.

He turned off the burners.  Gathered up both plates and walked them over to the table.  He laid them down gently next to the folded red napkins.  He hurried back to the kitchen, got some silverware, and put it by the plates.  He stood back and admired—Light!

He ran back to the kitchen and frantically searched his drawers for matches or a lighter of something!  The candles, the pink taper candles weren’t lit and she’d be here any minute.  Whoever heard of a romantic candlelit dinner without the candlelight!  Something.  He had to have some—Matches!  Oh thank God!

Vegeta raced back to the table.  Suddenly he heard something rustling at his door.  She was putting her key in the lock!  He struck a match.  His nose wrinkled at the acrid scent as he held the fresh flame to one taper…  Her key slid into the lock.  Then he held the match to the other taper…  Her key turned!  Vegeta shook the match out and bolted like a madman back to the kitchen.  He tossed the matches at the counter and the spent matchstick in the sink just as he heard the door open.

“Hey!”  Bulma greeted.

“Bulma,” Vegeta smiled, coming out of the kitchen.

She took one look at the candlelit dining table and her grin broadened.  Then she sniffed.

“You cooked katsudon!”  She couldn’t believe it!

He smirked smugly as he approached her, “Surprise.”

She closed the door behind her and locked it before abandoning her purse on the coffee table as she walked over to meet him.  But Vegeta walked past her.  Stunned, Bulma watched him go to the door.  As soon as he got there though, he turned to face her and blindly reached back behind him.

The room went dark except for the honey-gold light cast by the lit candles on the dinner table.

Bulma smiled warmly in the candlelight.  Her eyes sparkling like pure, radiant starlight.  He strode over to her.  She reached out to him.  Her hands felt warm over the skin of his neck.  His found her waist and drew her into him.  This all still felt so new and yet so familiar.  They’d been denying it for so long.  Giving themselves tastes of it, but to actually indulgent in it and not leave it behind but stay in it was bliss.  Absolute bliss.  He smiled.  Her lips rose to his for a kiss.  It was soft and sweet and lingering.  Perfect.  Their kiss broke and he held her close to him, feeling her warmth against his own body.  That was enough for him.  After fighting so hard and so long to be together, this was enough to have her in his arms.  He took her hand, kissed it, and escorted her over to the table.

Vegeta pulled out her chair.

“No, you sit first.”  Bulma told him.

“No, it’s your birthday.  You sit first.”

She took a moment, thinking something over, then sat down.  He pushed her chair in then took his own seat.

“Was shopping with your sister bad?  You didn’t get anything.”

She kept eyeing him, analyzing every feature of his face with dazzling sapphire eyes and a soft, sweet smile painting her pink lips.  He froze.  Something about her looking at him that way unnerving him.

“Bulma?”

Eyes still sparkling, smile still soft and sweet, she stood up.  He turned to her, but before he could say anything, she pulled his arms further apart and sat down on his knee.  She swung her legs over his lap.  Vegeta stared at her as she wrapped her arms around his neck.  This close in the dim light, he could see the mischief glittering in eyes.  A smirk slowly came to his lips.

“Bulma?”  He wrapped his arms around her.

“What if I told you that I didn’t go shopping with my sister after lunch?  What if I told you that I didn’t go shopping at all?”

“What have you been doing for all these hours then?”

She looked away from him.  Fear, irrational fear, suddenly gripped his chest.  She hadn’t been feeling well lately.  They’d both, well, _he’d_ thought that both of them had chalked it up to the recent stress.  His car accident.  Her being hounded by the press about their relationship still.  Her parents phone calls to her that she tried to keep hidden from him, but he’d caught enough of a few of them to know that her Mother had no problem insinuating that her daughter was some kind of whore.  It infuriated him but he didn’t push the issue especially seeing as how much it stressed Bulma.  Perhaps it stressed her more than he’d thought.  Perhaps he should have pushed this issue.  Maybe he should get involved…

“Is everything okay?”  He was dead serious.

She removed one arm from his neck.  He sensed her running away from him again.  His hand latched onto her wrist.  He stared at her.  Her smile faltered.

“Vegeta, let go.”

Reluctantly, he did.

But her hand took his… and guided it to the top button of her blouse.  She helped his fingers slip the first button loose… then the second… he gulped as the third slipped loose.  He peered down her blouse and saw that at some point today she’d taken her bra off.  She slipped his hand down her blouse.  Then looked him in the eye.

His heart stopped.  He really did believe his heart stopped.  He looked down at his wrist, the only part of his hand that wasn’t hidden down inside her blouse… between her bare breasts.

Vegeta blinked, “How…,” he choked, coughed, “how far…”

“All of it,” she grinned.

His eyes snapped up to hers.

“No bra.  No _panties_.”

He flexed his fingers, caressing soft, silky flesh and she stifled a sultry moan on his lap.  He felt himself getting hard.  So did she.

“I went to see you brother at work and you and I have the next week off.  Just like the… _cabin_.”

The cabin.  Their first weekend together.  The first time they got to just be a couple.  The first time they got to just be a man and a woman in love.  And they’d…

He lunged forward.  Kissing her deeply.  She wrapped her arms around his neck, but he kept his hand down her blouse.  She tilted her head and leaned in even more.  His tongue plundered her mouth.  He slowly rubbed his fingers back and forth.  She moaned.  Squirming on his lap.  His fingers drifted over the bulb of her ample breast… slipping over her pert nipple.  He felt it get harder at his touch.  She squirmed even more.  Whimpering.  Her own tongue plunging into his mouth just as deeply as his had been in hers.  God, he shifted in his seat.  Feeling his erection threatening to burst his seams.  Their lips parted and she pressed her forehead to his, nuzzling his nose.  Vegeta smiled.

“You know _I’m_ supposed to be the one to give _you_ a present on your birthday.”

She grinned.

“You will.  Lots and lots of times.”

He ran his tongue over his lips and went in for another kiss.  When their lips broke again, it was with giddy laughter with their foreheads touching once more.  Bulma breathed in deeply the she opened her eyes.

“That smells good.”  Meaning more than just the food.  He smelled spicy.  Like usual.

Vegeta slipped his hand from her blouse in one slow, smooth caress that had her whimpering and writhing.  He reached around, keeping her corralled between his arms on his lap, as he picked up the knife and fork by his plate.  He cut off a piece of meat and scooped up some egg, onion, and rice on the fork.

“Here,” he carefully held the forkful up to Bulma’s lips.

She was beaming at him, admiring every handsome feature of his face.  His piercing eyes.  She opened her mouth and he fed her.  She chewed slowly, closing her eyes as she savored the flavor bomb tingling her tongue.  It was…

“Mmmmm, perfect.”

She heard him let go of the breath he’d been holding.  She opened her eyes as he fixed another forkful and fed her again, “Eat.  You’re going to need your strength.”

“So will you,” Bulma giggled as another forkful was lifted to her mouth.  Her eyes dazzled at him as she chewed.  Vegeta watched every glitter of candlelight in every facet of her sapphire eyes.  He couldn’t imagine her looking more beautiful to him… except maybe on their wedding day.  His stomach fluttered, his whole body tingled with how much he absolutely loves…

“Hey.  Happy birthday, my Bulma.”

She swallowed, “Thank you… my Vegeta.”  She licked a drip of sauce from her lips.  His eyes riveted to the enticing display.  Bulma giggled again.  This was going to be an _incredible_ weeklong birthday!  The first of many, she was sure of it.


End file.
